The Past Comes Knocking to My Door
by Domenic
Summary: My own speculation into Greed's past, with other characters such as Dante, Hoenheim, Envy, and even Gluttony at some point.... Anime continuity. UPDATE: Chapter 4 added!
1. Prologue

A/N: Here starts an ambitious work—basically, a speculation into Greed's past, involving others such as Dante, Hoenheim, Envy, Gluttony…and some OC's. (I swear, they won't be mary-sue. This is set in anime continuity, has end-of-series spoilers…and the prologue's a little cheat; it was originally posted in my "Mr. Fuzzy Jacket", and it's still there…but the next installment—chapter 1—is like a direct sequel to it, so…. (But the next—new stuff—should already be posted to tide you over.)

Summary: All that we once were, informs what we will become; seeds of the future are always sown in the past; that night in Dante's Mansion had already been decided years before...

Disclaimer: Don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Prologue

When consciousness finally reigned supreme, when the Homunculus could see beyond the bloody mist, he found himself clinging to some desk of great elegance, although the elegance meant nothing to him, it was solid, it was firm...that was what mattered to him. That, and the woman, even if she looked kinda scary. She was just standing there, a young thing garbed in nothing dramatic like pure white or utter darkness, just a plain dress colored some shade of green. Just standing there, her dark eyes probing him, picking and prodding, cooly examining the flaws he **knew** were there; the flaws were there in the streams of blood still splattered on his face, they were there in the excess of tears and sweat, in the abnormality of his fangs, in the deathly white of the flesh that wasn't quite right, in the wide violet eyes that saw too much--everything was wrong.

His breaths came in shearing gasps, but they were comforting to the Homunculus; **they** felt right--

"Greed." The Homunculus would rather have not learned his name at all, if it meant he wouldn't have been forced to hear her voice, which was more frightening than everything else about her; the woman's voice had a--it had an ownership over him...

"Eat these." The woman offered a small leather pouch, and Greed found himself accepting it in curiosity, and then thanking her in politeness and genuine gratefulness; maybe she wasn't so bad, perhaps he was just being impulsive. Gingerly plucking out a crimson jewel, Greed never noticed the brief break in the woman's ice, the eyes shocked by his meek "thank you". He never noticed her disgusted sneer thereafter. The Homunculus just softly licked the stone, before finally popping it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Then everything went horribly wrong.

Once the jewel had been fully dissolved in his fanged mouth, his right arm vanished. Or it felt like it vanished; it was certainly numb, but a loud BANG! indicated it had struck something hard, but again--the numbness. Greed's teeth clenched as he observed his right arm, the sickening dark blue creeping further and further up; they clenched further as he heard a delighted gasp from the woman. Amusing, was it? Amusing that this blue crap was violating his entire body? Because it **was** violating all of it; the sick blue didn't stop with his right arm, it went to his left, and he could see it rise up his legs, up his chest, it was sealing everything off from the air, from the very sensation of **touch**...

The Homunculus felt the urge to whimper, but he fought it down, at least until the dark blue began crawling up his neck, finally cutting off his face--then, he not only whimpered, but completely lost his grip, and fell brokenly to the floor, taking all his will just to gather his sliced-off limbs into himself, all curled up and weak. Greed couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, not at all, no breathing, oh **god**, he couldn't breathe, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he wished, no matter how hard he prayed, no matter how hard he whimpered...

And the blood-stained symbols on the floor--they formed an alchemic array, he'd learn the word soon--seemed to be laughing at him as they pressed against his face, the one that couldn't feel a damn thing.

"Fascinating." Her impersonal flick against his blue prison echoed into his mind, banging it around. "Such hardness, carbon bonds must be altered in a fashion..." He didn't give a damn about carbon, he just wanted out, wanted this shield to leave him alone, so that he may touch the world...

"--must depend on its emotions and mental capacities..." He gave a damn about that, and Greed tried utilizing his will power differently, in a more focused and finely-tuned way, all the while ignoring the woman's reference to him as "it"... Concentrate, tell the shield to go away, concentrate, tell the shield to go away, concentrate, tell the shield to go away, concentrate, tell the shield to go away, concentrate, tell the shield to go away, concentrate, tell--

Greed happily gulped in air once his flesh was devoid of any blue, and he laughed so hard it hurt, but in a good way. So busy laughing, actually laughing himself into exhausted slumber, the Homunculus was again oblivious to another break in the woman's ice, a peculiar look in her dark eyes as she watched him sleep.

"Dante?" The voice wasn't in the room, just outside the door, as if too puzzled to enter; and yet, the voice's owner had his own peculiar look in his eyes as he observed from behind the glasses.

"Don't give me that look Hoenheim," replied Dante blankly, never taking her eyes off the Homunculus who slumbered so innocently. "I'll start breaking him tomorrow." She giggled a little after that, already imagining the screams Greed would make, Hoenheim glaring at her with a dark, yet strangely indifferent venom.

The Homunculus curled into himself further, his smile growing a little wider, his breaths coming in perfectly.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Next up—the graphic gore starts! Yay! (Well, some of it anyway.) Also…references to Greed when he was human are meant to be vague.

Summary: All that we once were, informs what we will become; seeds of the future are always sown in the past; that night in Dante's Mansion had already been decided years before...

Disclaimer: Don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Chapter 1

"For old-times' sake is it, my Hoenheim of Light?" Dante's voice was sultry as she hovered over her pens and papers, readying herself for furious note taking.

Golden eyes glaring, he coldly replied, "We discussed this; you've no skill for the task." The alchemist wondered if the rotted woman held any residual anger over his interference. But honestly, he still couldn't figure out why he had bothered to stand up for the new Sin in the first place, persuading her to put off "breaking him"...at least for a while.

"Yes..." She hissed, tapping one pen against her lips. "And I must conclude that your experience with teaching him before is the factor that makes you the better candidate."

"Greed is not Nicholas, Dante."

"I know **that**," said the rotting woman, and giggled in a shrill tone. "I just doubt you do, my dear," she finished as her stolen ivy eyes drifted toward the opening door, the young Sin drifting in nervously. Hoenheim coolly turned his glare on him, and Greed balked, growing more anxious, his creator's words still heavy on his mind, "You are to come down to the lab for some...**tests** by sunrise..."

Greed was not his student. Hoenheim thought this, and knew it to be true...but the way the Sin had balked at his glare was all too familiar.

"Um..." Began the Homunculus, fighting back the urge to run out; Hoenheim observed this fear, and he wondered if his young mind had any comprehension over how swift things were moving--it hadn't even been a week since his creation, and the revelation of that thereafter...which still bothered the alchemist, the way Nicho--**Greed** had reacted.

Envy...Envy had screamed and stormed and blood was split upon the realization of all human transmutation entailed--but Greed, he...he was eerily calm about the whole thing. The boy--**no**, not the boy, never the boy--he had reminded Hoenheim simply of a child learning something new from his parents; the Sin had taken his failed reincarnation in stride and curiosity, although Dante had been quick to crush any questions, and he submitted. It had proved to the alchemist how quick Greed was, to already feel wary of his creator after such a relatively short time...

"Dante will observe; **I **will conduct the lesson," Hoenheim told Greed, refusing to acknowledge his desire to calm the Sin down, nor how he had said "lesson" instead of "test." He denied any shift in his expression as he saw the boy visibly relax, and compensated with a cold order for him to come here NOW. Jarred, Greed quickly complied and stood above Hoenheim's seated form, head tilted questioningly.

"Damn hair will get in the way," he intoned as he slipped out an extra band from his pocket, roughly placing it into the Sin's Ouroborus hand. The alchemist stood up and headed for the door beside the wide clear-glass window, which opened up a view into the training room; Greed followed him as he tied up his long, darkly wild hair into a loose ponytail. Opening the door, Hoenheim had to blink when he turned back for Greed, had to do it to clear the image of Nicholas before him. With his hair now tied back like that, the Sin almost perfectly resembled his student, if not for the lack of dark skin and crimson eyes. (Dante had positively squealed at that, wondering if all Homunculi were set in color schemes of pale and violet, and she kept picking at how this one's memory seemed the opposite of the first's, so utterly clueless to the past.)

Often he had ignored his guilt in poisoning an Ishbalan child's mind against his god; oh, he had never bastardized Ishbala per se...but teaching the boy alchemy was enough.

"Wha--"

"Go in; I will not accompany you, and the door will be locked," the alchemist answered in a tone of finality, and although Greed hesitated a little, he obeyed and went into the opened door and down the stairs, shoving his hands into the coat pockets. Hoenheim stared at his retreating back, then shut the door.

"Chimeras ready?" Asked Dante in a tone devoid of any mirth, emotionless and clinical; somehow, this made him relax.

"Yes," he said, and went for the microphone, alchemically modified, yet looking just the same unaltered. "Do you have the whistle?" Stolen crimson hair bobbing, she held the instrument up, small and silver in her hand. He nodded, stealing a look at the Sin through the glass; his hands were still in his pockets, and he looked curiously around the darkened room, the only source of light above in the center, soft and almost useless.

Hoenheim spoke into the alchemic contraption, calling out to Greed, whose head snapped up and peered into the window, which was slanted and set at a great height.

"This is a combat exercise; chimeras will be your opponents."

"What's a chim--"

The whistle shrieked.

Part of the test's point was to examine the Sin's reflexes; too much explanation on Hoenheim's part would nullify that goal. Thus, that left Greed being cut off by rushing teeth and tearing claws, followed by many more. He cursed, managing to rip off the chimera that had latched onto his arm, further ripping his own flesh; he side-stepped other charging chimeras, arm rapidly stitching itself back together, but a look in his violet eyes told Hoenheim that Greed was aware he couldn't keep running.

Yet, when he continued to dodge, it gave the alchemist the impression that he was unwilling to accept that fact; he was panicking...

"Greed, calm down," he breathed into the microphone, and the Sin made the mistake of snapping a curse at him, exposing far too much of himself. Calmly, Hoenheim pondered the boy's lack of concentration as the beasts dragged him to the ground, his form soon lost beneath their mismatched bodies. A strangled cry from Greed contradicted with the yelps of pain from the chimeras, and the alchemist could hear their fangs scrape against something hard---obviously the Shield the rotting woman had mentioned in an excited whisper...

"Greed, **calm down**," repeated Hoenheim, observing the Sin curl into itself, whimpering all the while, the chimeras having retreated and cluttered around each other, their golden eyes watching anxiously, unblinking. "Greed," he continued, far more gentle and in a coaxing tone, "Greed, chil--Homunculus, the Shield is more of an advantage than a weakness, it protected you from the chimeras--"

"It **hurts**."

"Even so, you must learn to use it; get up now--"

"**NO! I WANT IT GONE!**" And although the alchemist suppressed a gasp, he was impressed at how the Sin had learned to take the Shield off, even if he thought it a foolish choice. Weak flesh against chimera fangs and claws? It seemed his student would learn the hard way, as usual--Hoenheim could not resist a frustrated hiss.

His eyes snapped, fixating on how damn swift Greed lashed out at the first beast to charge him; although bare, the fist still had its freakish strength, and the chimera went sprawling, slamming into two others. For a moment, the beasts cluttered around each other again, just as anxious and confused as before, their eyes as unblinking. The Sin remained tense, fists balled up, but then slumped, relaxing, making another mistake--the chimeras pounced...yet he was still quick, rolling out of the way and snapping back up for more.

And so it went: their bodies smashed against each other, drops of blood smacking noisily against the ground; the beasts all growling, while Greed was silent, only occasionally letting out the loose curse word, especially whenever the Shield was called forth by instinct; at that point, Hoenheim would again try to order the Sin to use his unique power, and again, he wouldn't listen to him, only to his fear, backpedaling while taking the damn blue down, losing ground and receiving the most hits from the chimeras; if Hoenheim was not a scientist, he would've lost track of time, yet he counted five hours passing as the combat training continued. Then another five. And another five after that.

The alchemist realized the standards were a bit inhuman, but then again, the test subject was but a Homunculus.

Finally, when twenty hours had passed, he signaled to Dante, and she blew the whistle again, this time causing the chimeras to retreat, instead of charge in as before. As the beasts crept into the room's dark corners and back into their cages, Hoenheim saw Greed breathing heavily, practically gasping for air, his entire body rigid, a bloody mess...yet the alchemist noted some accelerated healing already taking place. Violet eyes calculating and a little crazed, once he was sure none of them would be coming back, Greed sank to his knees, head bowed down as if weighted...most likely it was no conscious act, just a failure to face exhaustion any longer.

As the Sin began to vomit blood, Hoenheim unlocked the training room's door, and issued a last command into the alchemic microphone, telling Greed to come up; not waiting to see how soon the boy could compose himself, the alchemist turned to the rotted woman, and simply glared at her, quietly ordering Dante to take her leave NOW. With a smile on her lips that bordered on a smirk, she gathered up her notes and did indeed leave, yet it didn't feel like much of a victory to Hoenheim.

Shaking his head of such foolish thoughts, the alchemist turned back to Greed. The boy had stopped throwing up, and was busy wiping the blood off his mouth. Done with that, he stood up and began trudging toward the stairs, plodding up them with a monotonous beat. Eventually, the Sin had to slump against the wall as he went, and he idly traced his left fingers against the cool surface; the whole wall felt nice against his skin, and Greed sighed, contented, and Hoenheim was puzzled by this simplicity.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: This occurs directly after chapter 1.

Summary: All that we once were, informs what we will become; seeds of the future are always sown in the past; that night in Dante's Mansion had already been decided years before...

Disclaimer: Don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Chapter 2

"No--"

"**Greed**." The Sin huffed and looked off to the side, yet paid clear attention to Hoenheim. They were still in the lab, but of course away from the training room below, and seated at a desk that seemed more like a tea table. Speaking of, Greed took another sip of his beer; when the alchemist had asked him what he'd like to drink, and he nervously looked at the tea set held in his hands, the man knowingly pulled out a jug of the tangy alcohol, and the Sin couldn't help but cheer.

"It isn't a question of desire," continued Hoenheim, sipping his own traditional tea, "it's a question of survival--"

"I did fine without the Shield--"

"Could've done better with it." Golden eyes piercing into the wounds that were still sealing themselves up, Greed sighed, swirling the beer around in its mug, taking an odd pleasure in its softly sloshing sounds. The alchemist just found them annoying, and snapped, "Stop that." The boy stared at him with a sulk, then quickly finished the rest of the alcohol, plopped down the mug, and quietly asked, "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Obviously, learn control, which is easier said than done..." Hoenheim took pains to keep his face flat and devoid of any smirks as the Sin took on an expression of mock-offense. "Come, sit on the floor," replied the alchemist crisply as he stood up from the table, observing Greed sitting down cross-legged, and it was then he realized that there was something in the boy's obedience to him that was more...**solid** than what he gave to Dante thus far.

"Now," the elder man said, he too sitting down on the concrete floor all cross-legged, "Still your body, your breathing, clear your mind--"

"Would you mind making it more vague? I'd really appreciate it..." It took not a glare, just a blank stare to settle Greed down, yet the alchemist wasn't certain how long that would last; he had expected these meditation exercises to be particularly difficult for someone as...hyper as the boy. (That was nice for Hoenheim, who had gotten into the habit of describing the new Sin as a rabid squirrel rammed into overdrive with possessive, flighty claws; in the short time he had been active, Greed had explored every nook and cranny of the mansion allowed to him--and some not allowed--ran into the forest with absolutely no permission, scurrying below and through the trees, and the only thing distracting him from the town just outside said forest was a more thorough investigation into the library, which resembled more of a raid in Hoenheim's opinion. And really, it was a miracle at all that he and Dante had managed to keep the Sin away from her little vessel-in-the-making...not that Greed had any sinister intentions--the boy just wanted to talk with young Elizabeth and play games, but that was just impossible under the circumstances.)

"Still my body and breathing, clear my mind, yadda yadda..." The alchemist resisted a growl, the real kick in the figurative sense coming when the Sin **did** manage those tasks even with that juvenile parroting, albeit with difficulty; Hoenheim forced out a nod of approval, motivated by the fact that Greed had closed his eyes in the process of getting into the meditation.

"Do you know how to activate your Shield?" Time for some sort of break; Dante could only tell him so much, the alchemist needed a first-hand account...

"Dante said something 'bout my emotions..."

"Is she right?"

"When I got freaked with those chimeras, yeah, it came up, but the same thing didn't happen the first time, it was just the rocks..."

"Yes, the first time was the initial activation procedure, simply a reaction to the Red Stones."

"So that shit gave me the Shield?"

"That is one way to look at it, but not necessarily true; most likely, the Shield is always an integral part of you, and the Red Stones simply quickened their emergence, not given it to you."

"Is there someone else like me?" Frozen, the alchemist flashed unbidden to a writhing mass of mangled bone and flesh, violet eyes dead, yet so very frightened...

"...Why do you ask that?" Perhaps his voice had been too harsh, for Greed looked repentant, bowing his head a little as he sheepishly replied, "It's just things I've picked up when you and Dante talk about me--you both sound experienced, like you've met Homunculi before..." Trailing off, Hoenheim let the Sin sit, as he quietly pondered the boy's observation skills; he was quite keen, just like--but it would be in his best interest to curb that trait in the rotted woman's presence.

"His name is Envy." Greed's head snapped up, curiosity flaring in his violet eyes that were so much more alive than his predecessor's. "He's away on business right now." The alchemist didn't care to imagine how the elder Sin would respond to the letter Dante sent out, notifying him of his new "little brother"...particularly since he had been the one to murder Nicholas...

"Do you know when he'll be back?"

"He's not someone you'd want to meet." Hoenheim had not meant to snap, but the innocent anticipation in Greed's violet eyes unnerved him, especially if Envy was the heart of it.

"But--"

"Could you see the Shield?"

"Huh?"

"We know your emotions trigger it, but is there a warning mental image? Anything at all?"

"...It gets too dark..." Hoenheim nodded, filing it away for future use--which would be soon.

"Return to your meditation now." He had expected the Sin to resist, or at the very least pout, yet Greed listened without hesitation...although it took a solid 5-minute struggle before the exercise was accomplished. Hoenheim watched the boy, breathing calmly with peacefully closed eyes, yet it still looked like it took him pains to sit still.

"Alright, recall that image of darkness, the one you described." Certain it would work, he watched the Sin's eyes shift from peace to tension in clenching skin and furrowed brows; Hoenheim took in the way Greed gripped his own kneeled legs, practically clawing into them as the dark shade of blue began inching up his face. It surprised the alchemist, who had expected the Shield to start with the hands first; he ignored the boy's whimpers. As the blue wavered, shrinking back, his eyes darkened; the Sin had slackened of his own will no doubt.

"Concentrate," he intoned deeply, and Greed gritted his fangs, the Shield pausing for a moment, then rising again, in a steadier pace too. Stretched up his entire neck, finally passing the mouth, turning it into an angry mesh of daggers, the Shield continued on, just consuming the nose before finally dissipating, the Sin hunched and gasping. Hoenheim observed this coldly and intoned, "Again."

Glaring for a moment from behind spiky strands of hair, Greed shifted in an instant, dryly chuckling as he straightened up, swearing he'd get the damn thing down.

As he started again, this time trying to get his Shield to start with his hands, the Sin was oblivious to his teacher's approving glance, no matter how small.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the feedback—and look! More gore! (Swear I'm not bloodthirsty…just being sarcastic. Seriously.) Interesting how this turned out; always had the general outline planned, but then recollection of Ed's missing leg in the manga, and being reminded of the infamous Greed vs. Ed fight in the anime—meh, those elements squirmed their way in. XP (It IS true, writing can end up with the characters writing themselves….)

Summary: All that we once were, informs what we will become; seeds of the future are always sown in the past; that night in Dante's Mansion had already been decided years before...

Disclaimer: Don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Chapter 3

"DAMN IT!"

"Break yourself out."

"It's not like I asked you to let me out this time!" Hoenheim merely grunted, still concentrating on keeping the rock molded around Greed; already a couple of days after sparring matches were added to meditation and the chimera exercises, the Sin was growing more efficient. Actually, under more normal circumstances, Greed would be considered somewhat of an expert combatant, but the alchemist was unsatisifed, demanding nothing less than perfection.

"Relax your breathing, you don't want to hyperventilate again." A curse, certainly, but the erratic breathing abated and turned clear.

"The rock's barely cracking, you'll have to hit harder." A strained hiss, louder cracks against the alchemic cave, but it still held firm. But it wasn't that the boy refused to use the Shield, there wasn't a question of that anymore...yet just because he became more accepting of it, didn't mean he had complete mastery over such power.

...Pressure. That had been the theme of this training, as well as with Nicholas' instruction. Thus...

"YOU--"

"Harder."

"And stay calm, right?" Points for flippant sarcasm when the rock prison abruptly started caving in on him just seconds ago, crushing and choking further; it had been a simple for Hoenheim, just a small modulation of the inner array... At first, the cracks remained just as miniscule, but the louder the Sin's smacking fists went, the craggy walls finally began to buckle and bulge. As Greed made his way, Hoenheim switched tactics, wanting to test more of the Sin's instincts, but mostly his ability to think ahead, see exactly how well he could observe... When the boy tore the last remnants of rock away, stepping through the rubble fully sheathed, the alchemist immediately activated the stone vine he had been forming and launched it; the finely compacted thread twisted around one blue ankle, and yanked. Greed made no sound, his crimson eyes simply wide, and he scrambled for the vine, but Hoenheim deftly quickened its speed, hurling it almost vertically into the ceiling above, slamming its passenger headlong into the surface. The alchemist noted that the Sin needed to work on holding onto the Shield under extreme pressure, watching the dark blue retreat and flesh return to be abused; Greed sputtered on his blood, eyes squeezed shut as plaster crumbled about him, and he soon fell away from the ceiling, just hanging by the leg still kept in the vine's grasp.

Hoenheim waited, but then deemed he had given the Sin enough time to compose himself--he snapped the vine downward, and this time, Greed did yell out. The whole training room rocked, and dust clouded everything; when it was clear again, the alchemist found the Sin looked absolutely feral, struggling to get up and reach for the stone thread, still choking on his blood, his neck just wrenching itself back into place. Greed was so focused on being free of the vine, Hoenheim never expected him to move for a particularly large slab of dagger-like rock, and slam it toward him with a furious swipe of his shielded claws. Impressed, the alchemist dodged about half of the rock, a decent-sized chunk of his shoulder torn away, the bloody gap actually gratifying him more; the boy was improving.

Concentration on the stone vine wavered, loosening its grip, Hoenheim was left vulnerable...and Greed hesitated. The alchemist saw the Sin's face soften, his violet eyes turn fearful, become weighed down with guilt and worry, the Shield retreat from the hands of his own free will...and Hoenheim simply stared at him, before promptly tightening the thread once more, then ripping the leg clear off the body, only up to the knee line.

Greed did not scream.

His hands instinctively went for his stump of a leg, scrambling to halt the blood, and his entire body arched back into a tight curve as his fangs bit ruthlessly into the lips; the boy soon collapsed in on himself, falling onto his side, curling into himself and nursing the dripping stump, his vocal chords finally showing that they still worked by emitting small, muted curses, all beginning with "f."

"Don't worry, you won't be crippled." Hoenheim knew his voice sounded mocking to the Sin, and for now, it worked in his favor. Anger was a strong tool, if one knew how to use it, and he intended to get the concept through to the boy...

Greed's hands went for his head, holding onto it for no other reason than for something to tear into as he gave into the primal scream, his stump trembling with bones and organs pushing forward, blood boiling all the way through; his screams hit a new crescendo as the leg finally returned, and Hoenheim couldn't even find it in himself the need to resist twitching, for there was no movement to twitch at all, and THAT was disturbing. He stepped closer, hands shifting, and the Sin wearily climbed up with his rejuvenated leg, all limp and wet; he shielded his hands, chest heaving in harsh breathes, yet the determination remained in his face. Hoenheim made no more moves, and regarded his charge coolly, even more impressed by his swift recovery.

They fought for 30 minutes more, and when the alchemist called "enough," Greed leaned against the wall, slid down it, and sighed as he held his knees to the chest and bowed his head into them. Hoenheim left him alone for a few minutes while he cleaned up the training room, then went before the boy and bent down to his level; his hand took Greed's chin, gently lifting it up, and the boy looked at him curiously, yet once he registered the cold in the golden eyes, found himself too tired to shrink back.

"You cannot be afraid to attack." The Sin's eyes drifted to his teacher's wound, and he winced as Hoenheim forced him back toward his golden eyes. "You mustn't hesitate; in future battles, when you fight, it's always your life on the line--you fight to kill, understand?"

"I--I--I'm sorry Teacher, I...I don't understand..." Greed's eyes closed, embarrassed and defeated; the alchemist did not force his gaze to himself again. Hoenheim sighed, telling him that he would in time; inwardly, he grieved, although he didn't know why.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for the long update.

Summary: All that we once were, informs what we will become; seeds of the future are always sown in the past; that night in Dante's Mansion had already been decided years before...

Disclaimer: Don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

"He is progressing nicely, isn't he?"

"Don't toy with him Dante."

"So he isn't--"

"No, he **is**, but your intent was solely to mock." They were in the lab again, going over notes on Greed, the Sin himself busying himself in the library--last he heard, the boy had told him he'd start going through Xing texts on alchemy after the Amestris ones. Hoenheim had learned this from Greed the other day, as he lay panting on the floor during a break between sparring and chimera matches; he had still been chattering on and on, too foolish to even consider conserving his energy. The alchemist had learned many a pointless thing as the Sin talked to him cheerfully; told him in length about the different plants and trees he had seen and identified, an elaborate description of play between young foxes he had dubbed "Edward" and "Alphonse", he even spoke of his gradual work in getting Elizabeth to believe there was a ghost in the mansion--but only after he made Hoenheim swear to never tell Dante.

...Alas, as insane as it sounded, perhaps the things Greed shared with him weren't so pointless, thought Hoenheim, and he then recalled pausing the Sin during his chatter when he mentioned reading alchemy.

"Why? You can't use it," he had said--more like snapped, without meaning to be cruel, but sounding like it all the same.

"I know that," the Sin had replied, saying it as if he were explaining something very simple and obvious. "But it's still interesting stuff to read, and pictures of the arrays are pretty." Hoenheim had bit back the urge to ask if he remembered, if he remembered "All Is One, One Is All," if he remembered being found among rotting corpses as the sole survivor...

"I've even tried drawing some of them, like this..." And Greed had drifted off, rolling off his back and onto his stomach as he carefully scrawled an array into the dirt that ended up being totally flawless; it had sent a chill down the alchemist's spine, the style was too damn familiar...

"Teacher?" He had asked, worried, obviously catching the troubled expression on Hoenheim's face, who then straightened up and ordered the boy to get up and get ready; the Sin had jumped then, but quickly composed himself as he stood up and fully shielded himself, the alchemist taking care to obscure the dirt-array as he attacked...

"Regardless," Dante drawled, effectively drawing Hoenheim back into the present. "It is interesting all the same, and not just academically," breathed the woman as she stared blankly at a test tube, and Hoenheim could only imagine she was replaying a bloody and haggard-looking Greed in her mind...

"You're observing our sessions for data collection purposes; don't turn it into a damn spectator's sport," he hissed, alarmed by his own ferocity, but didn't care to show it. The rotted woman merely smiled, slinking toward him gracefully, her dark dress swirling about her boots delicately.

"No use in lying, is there?" Reaching Hoenheim, she slipped her arms about his shoulders, and if only in familiarity, he did not move away. "Yes, I do take pleasure in seeing it fight for air, and the way its blood falls, and I absolutely **loved** the way it screamed during that first limb regeneration..." Her breaths teased his ears, tongue waiting ever so patiently for admittance. "If it bothers you so, my Hoenheim of Light, I can take my pleasures elsewhere."

Her intent was just as clear as his stinging slap.

Dante's head seemed to have been stuck in place, wrenched to the side as Hoenheim quietly left; he went to the library, silently watching Greed read, and for once, the boy did not chatter, but remain just as silent, save for when he flipped the pages.


End file.
